Call For Dr Reid
by seditionary
Summary: In Pt.1, Dr. Spencer Reid interrogates the Joker. Pt.2-Bruce Wayne prepares for a party to honor Reid for his help in capturing the Joker and saving Dent & Dawes. Derek Morgan's not happy about it, with good reason. Now M-rated for slash, sex, violence.
1. Part I

Dr. Spencer Reid held his go bag in one hand, a case file in the other. Hotch, his supervisor, had gone over the situation with him in detail and was now finishing up with a series of dire warnings.

"You can't let your guard down for an instant, Reid. The man is beyond clever--he poisoned a police commissioner with his own liquor and blew up a judge right in front of her protective officers."

Reid nodded. "I understand."

"No, you don't. He murdered a mob goon with an ordinary No. 2 yellow pencil, right in front of the whole gang."

"Ok."

"You don't want to know what he can do with a potato peeler."

"Uh--"

"He has no empathy, no normal human emotions. He's a master manipulator. He killed off his own henchmen!"

"I know."

Hotch fixed Reid with an intense stare. "When I say 'be careful', I mean be on hyper-alert at all times. I want you to come back. We need you."

"I have every intention of coming back. I'll be fine." Reid gave Hotch what he hoped was a reassuring smile, nodded in farewell, and headed out the door.

"You really think you can handle this, pretty boy?" Special Agent Derek Morgan was driving Reid to the BAU's private jet airstrip.

"He's a criminal. He must have a weakness. All I have to do is figure out what it is."

"Yeah, and do it fast. Two lives are at risk. No pressure, though."

Reid gave Morgan a rueful smile. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

He got out of the car and waved goodbye, then ran up the ramp into the plane.

Forty-five minutes later, the jet landed at Gotham International Airport, and the newly appointed Commissioner, Jim Gordon, met him at the gate.

"Thank you for coming, Dr. Reid. I know this is unusual, but--the situation is unusual."

"Yes, that's what makes this so interesting. This is a case unlike any we've ever encountered. I'm really grateful for the opportunity to be involved."

Gordon pursed his lips. "Yes, well--we'll see how grateful you feel after you've met the bastard."

They arrived at the MCU and Gordon escorted the young doctor to the interrogation room. As the door swung open, Reid stifled a gasp of surprise. He'd seen some grainy surveillance photos of the Joker's made-up face, but was wholly unprepared for the sight that greeted him as he walked into the room.

"Dr. Spencer Reid--this is the Joker," said Gordon. He softly said, "Good luck," as he walked back out into the hallway. Reid regarded the man sitting handcuffed at the metal table. The smeared makeup gave him a disturbingly mangled appearance which was only accentuated by his yellowed teeth and ragged scars. Reid nodded at him and took a seat himself.

"Hello."

The Joker shifted forward in his chair and smirked. "Why, hello. _Doctor."_

Reid swallowed before thumbing through the file. "It says here that Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes disappeared two days ago, following Dent's announcement that he is the vigilante known as Batman."

"Mm."

Reid glanced at the garishly painted face. "How did you feel when you heard about that?"

The Joker looked up at the ceiling as though pondering the question, then answered, "I was dismayed."

"Dismayed."

"Certainly. I've been curious about the Batman's true identity ever since I heard about his--exploits on behalf of this city."

"Ok. Then, I would think you would have been pleased to have had the mystery solved."

"Yeah, you'd think so, wouldn't you?" The Joker licked his lips and sat back disinterestedly. He didn't say anything else and the silence in the room became oppressive.

"But...?" Reid prompted. The Joker looked at him as if he'd forgotten he was there.

"Oh, well, you see, I changed my mind. I don't like the idea of the truth behind Batman being revealed after all."

"Why?"

"Because. He's just too much fun."

"Fun."

"Yeah. He's... like my other half. Light and shadow, yin and yang, Tom and Jerry, that sort of thing."

"I see. So--were you angry with Dent for telling the truth?"

"Dent? Oh, no. He's a liar and a schemer, but--I don't hold any grudges against him."

"A liar? What did he lie about?"

"About being Batman. He's not. He was just trying to take the heat off of this fair city. Kind of admirable, really."

"So, your goal is not to punish Harvey Dent?"

"I don't have 'goals', Doctor. I just... do things."

Reid's frown of concentration morphed into a blank expression.

"What does Rachel Dawes have to do with all this?"

The Joker tsk'ed. "I'm not one to gossip, but--she's Harvey's little squeeze."

"Yes, they're in a romantic relationship. Does that bother you?"

"Bother me?"

"Yes, are you, uh, attracted to Rachel?"

"Well, she's a beautiful woman. I do appreciate a beautiful woman when I come across one."

"It says here you attempted to kill her once before, at a party at Bruce Wayne's."

"Oh, now that's just an exaggeration. I was only having a bit of fun with Bats and it... got out of hand. So to speak." The dark eyes twinkled.

"Bats. You call him Bats?"

"Just a little nickname."

Reid paused a moment to gather his thoughts, then pulled out a series of crime scene photographs--Brian, the Batman impersonator, and the two police officers, Dent and Harvey.

"Are you familiar with these people?"

"Umm--yes, yes I am."

"You murdered them."

"So?"

"Why did you do it?"

"Let me explain something to you, _Doctor._ Everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes, just getting up in the morning is the worst decision you could possibly make. It's not my fault that those people were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"So, you accept no responsibility for your actions?"

"They were victims of chaos." The Joker lowered his voice and fixed Reid with a burning stare. "I'm an agent of chaos."

Disquieted, Reid shuffled the photos back into his folder and cleared his throat.

"Let's get back to Batman--do you feel he's engaged in some sort of on-going battle of wits with you?"

The Joker laughed. "Wits? Bats? Oh, no. He's clever enough, but the wits are... lacking."

"So, you don't regard him as your equal?"

"On the contrary. We have equal and opposite strengths and weaknesses. It's what makes it all so... interesting."

"You still want to know his identity."

"Not particularly. I just don't want the rest of the world to know." The Joker gestured with his cuffed hands and stared at his questioner. "Why did you come here today, Doctor? Do you really think I'm going to tell you where they are?"

"I hope so. Or, at least, I hope you'll tell me how to find them."

The Joker's voice turned to a deep growl.

"Do you really think I went to all that trouble to attract the attention of a little pipsqueak like _you?"_

"I--"

"This story is for Batman. Get him here and I'll tell him where they are."

"You want his attention."

"Yes."

"Why? Why do you need Batman so much?"

"I--" The anger faded from the Joker's eyes and an almost gentle smile crossed his face. "You think I'm some kind of a monster, don't you?"

"I think you have some severe psychological disorders, possibly schizophrenia, long-term psychosis, bi-polar disorder, PTSD, narcissism--"

The Joker's face was now scrunched into a "what the heck?" expression. "So, you don't think I'm capable of normal human emotions?"

"I think your ability to process stimuli may be compromised, or at the least, drastically altered from the norm."

The Joker licked his lips and leaned forward. "Do you think I'm capable of--falling in love?"

"I don't know."

"I do. And, I am. Put it together, Doc."

Reid stared, puzzled. "You... love... Batman?"

"Now you've got it. Tell Gordon, if he wants to save them, to get Bats in here. Time's running out."

Reid nodded and gathered his things. He stood up, walked to the door and tapped for the guard. He glanced once more at the madman at the table. The Joker raised an eyebrow.

"Nice to meet you, Doc."

Reid didn't answer and when the door was opened, he slipped out, feeling as if he'd just arrived back on planet earth after a little side trip into hell.

"So?" Gordon asked. "What did he say?"

"You need to find Batman immediately."

"Why?"

"Whatever else may be going on, one thing is clear--he's willing to reveal his captives' whereabouts to him, and only to him."

"I don't understand."

Reid smiled slightly. "I'm afraid love is never easy to understand, Commissioner. Just get Batman in there. I think he'll cooperate with him."

"Love?" Gordon said to himself as he punched a number into his phone. He congratulated himself on getting the genius doctor to speak with the Joker.

He was obviously a match for the Joker's intelligence.

**Now, kind reader, please press the little green button and (yes!) REVIEW! I will love you and think well of you for always.**


	2. Part II

**Hello! So, I have been promising a sequel (actually, I'm just calling this "Part 2") to "Call for Dr. Reid" for a while now, and I finally got it down on virtual paper. It will be a few chapters long. I'm sorry to say that I was not able to keep the "T" rating. This part of the story features slash between Dr. Reid and Agent Derek Morgan, and I'm pretty sure Batman and Joker are more than friends, and Bruce Wayne seems to be a little sweet on Reid, plus, the Joker has his eye on him, too, for some reason, so please be warned-there will be male/male sexy-stuff! Oh, and some violence, down the way... **

**So, yeah, I do apologize about the rating change, but better to be safe than sorry.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Seds**

* * *

Dr. Spencer Reid, freshly showered and dressed for travel, pulled a tailored shirt off of its hanger and walked back to the bed where his overnight bag lay open. He carefully folded the shirt and packed it away with his nicest jacket and slacks. He strode back to the closet and chose two ties, then turned and quizzically raised an eyebrow, silently offering them to his guest for consideration.

Special Supervisory Agent Derek Morgan sat on the edge of the disheveled bed, still only half-dressed, watching Reid's movements with a baleful expression. Even after an impromptu round of vigorous sex with the lanky doctor, his mood was still dark. He glanced at the tie selection and irritably pointed at the red one before snapping, "I can't believe you're really going to go."

"Why? We've been over this, Derek. It's not a date."

Morgan pursed his lips and when he spoke, Reid noticed his voice was raised by exactly six tenths of one percent.

"Oh, really? Well, let's review. Who all is coming to this soiree?"

"Police Commissioner Gordon and his wife, Barbara. District Attorney Harvey Dent and his fiancee, Assistant DA Rachel Dawes. And, of course, the host is Bruce Wayne."

"Uh-huh. Now, let's do a count-two plus two, plus one. That equals five, am I right?"

"Well, assuming you agree with the concept of zero..."

"I got no problem with zero. All right, now, let's add Dr. Reid, and voila, we have six-an even number! Pairs, like on the Ark! That says to me that you are Bruce Wayne's date."

"That doesn't say anything of the sort. First of all, I don't believe Bruce is-"

_"'Bruce?' _Oh, we're on a first name basis, now, are we?"

"He asked me to call him Bruce. Anyway, I don't believe Bruce is gay. He doesn't come off that way-"

"What the hell does that mean? Do _I _'come off' gay?"

"No, but-"

"Spencer, you're barely even aware that there are two sexes to begin with, what makes you think you've suddenly got gaydar going on?"

"I'm a profiler, Derek, I do have some knowledge in this area. Anyway, as I was saying, I don't believe he's interested in me sexually, and even if he is, I don't reciprocate the feelings."

"You don't?"

"No."

"Really. So, you're not interested in big, handsome, muscle-y guys-"

Reid gave him a sweet grin. "Well, obviously, I am. Maybe that explains why I so often end up in your bed, my knees hiked up to my shoulders, with your penis inserted in my-"

Morgan held up a hand. He still wasn't used to Spencer's matter-of-fact attitude about their sex life. "Ok, ok, nice to know, thanks. But, Wayne's got something I don't-billions of dollars."

Reid laughed. "And, you think I'm looking for, what, a sugar daddy? You're crazy."

"No, but you've never been around that kind of excess. Anything you want, anytime you want it. And, that's not all, he's also suave and charming, you said so yourself. And, he's sending a private jet for you. You don't think you might end up being a little swept away by a package like that?"

Reid placed a quick kiss on Derek's shaved head and tilted his chin up. "First of all, I'm hardly impressed by a private jet, I'm in one practically every week. Second, I'm obligated to go. I'm the guest of honor, remember? They all wanted to say 'thank you' to me for coming to Gotham and getting the Joker to reveal Dent and Dawes' whereabouts to Batman. If it hadn't been for me, they both would have gotten blown up."

"Don't be modest or anything."

"I'm just stating the facts." Reid stood back and appraised Morgan's sour expression, then gave him a chiding look. "And, anyway, this entire argument is ridiculous-I mean, it isn't as if you and I were in a serious relationship."

Morgan's frown deepened. "Oh, yeah? Who says?"

"Well, let's see. Other than getting together for a couple of rounds of fairly amazing intercourse a few nights a week, we don't actually share much of our lives outside of work, do we?"

"Yeah, well, we're together as much as sixty hours a week, pretty boy, we don't _have_ lives outside of work."

"Granted, but even if we did, you'd still be reluctant to be seen in public with me." The doctor gave him a narrow look and pointed a finger at him. "Which is, I suspect, due to the fact that you continue to struggle with unresolved issues regarding your sexuality."

"That's not true!"

"Of course it is. More people have seen you with your dog than have seen you with me, off-the-clock. You don't even want to go out to dinner with me."

"Only because we can't ever agree on where to go, and I get too hungry. It's just easier to fix something at home."

"Mm. Then, there's the little matter of romance-"

"Now, there's nothing wrong with that!"

"I'm not talking about sex, I'm talking about things like remembering special occasions."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Oh, hell, I knew it. You're still pissed about Valentine's Day, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not. I told you, that wasn't that big of a deal." Reid pursed his lips and thought for a moment. "I mean, compared to the debacle of my birthday-"

"Aw, here it comes! Come on, man, I got you a present!"

Spencer sighed and strode over to his nightstand. He pulled open the drawer and gestured to the rather frightening array of sex toys and restraints contained within. "Yeah, right. Look at this! Not exactly the _Medieval Songs and Stories _CD set I was hinting around for."

"But, these are a lot more fun! And, we've hardly even sampled half of them. Look, I'll make a deal with you. If you bow out of the dinner party, I'll take you out anywhere you want to go. Then, we can come home and give the rest of your birthday presents a try-how about it?" Morgan smiled hopefully. Reid shook his head.

"Forget it. Now, don't worry." He leaned down and kissed Morgan again, this time on the lips. "I have to admit, I'm looking forward to attending a formal dinner party at a billionaire's penthouse in Gotham. I bet there's going to be Beluga caviar, and possibly real _pate de foie gras_. Plus, I'll get to do some sightseeing the next day. But, that's all there is to it. Okay?"

"Fine. But, if he asks you to sleep with him, what are you going to say?"

"I'll say I have a casual sex partner on the verge of being willing to be seen in public with me, who's also an FBI profiler. Meaning, he'd be able to instantly detect my slutty behavior, and would proceed to torment me with an unending barrage of insults and reprimands. Plus, I assume it would hurt his feelings, so... the answer is 'no, thank you'."

Morgan curled his lips disbelievingly, but put his arms around his almost-boyfriend and pulled him onto his lap. "You are driving me crazy. If you decide to fuck him, just do me the courtesy of using a condom, will you?"

"Derek! Nothing's going to happen, God."

"Okay. If you're promising to come back in the same condition I'm sending you in, then okay. But-I'd like to think we're a little more than just casual sex partners."

"Are we?"

Morgan pulled him into a long, soulful kiss, then sat back and looked into Reid's eyes. He sighed. "Just go."

Reid stood up and zipped his bag shut. "I'll be back tomorrow night, we can talk about it then."

"Yeah, you know I'll want to hear all about the fish eggs and pate d'whatever."

"I meant, we'll talk about _us."_

"Oh-yeah. I guess that's probably a good idea." Morgan reluctantly stood up, finished dressing, then followed Reid out of his apartment to drive him to meet his flight. At the airport, he demanded and received the promise of a phone call as soon as Reid's plane touched ground in Gotham, then he stepped away to find a place to watch Reid's takeoff.

As the plane taxied down the runway, he couldn't dismiss a feeling of dread. Somehow, he wasn't sure that Bruce Wayne was the only threat Gotham City held for their relationship.

* * *

Bruce Wayne's butler, Alfred, was watching his employer futilely search for his car keys.

"Are you certain you don't want _me_ to meet the plane, Master Wayne?"

"No, Alfred. Dr. Reid is my very special guest. Without his help, I would've lost my two best friends in the whole world, and the Joker would still be on the loose. The least I can do is meet him at the airport."

"Sir, have you checked your pockets?"

"My pockets? Of course I checked my-oh. You're right, here they are. Thanks, Alfred."

"My pleasure, sir." He watched Bruce slip on a jacket and head out the door.

His boss was behaving in a most peculiar manner. Nervous, scattered, excited. Almost... almost as if he were preparing for a date. Although, it had been a very long time since he'd seen Bruce Wayne acting as if he were nervous before a date. In fact, his outings with beautiful women had struck Alfred as being more of a chore for the handsome young billionaire than anything else. Ever since the Joker came along, oddly enough.

Clearly, something had happened.

Something important.

Alfred shook his head and went upstairs to make a final check on the condition of the guest room. He thought of the special champagne that Master Wayne had had him order-just one bottle, only enough for two, not the whole dinner party-and it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps he didn't need to bother with the guest room. He frowned, but hurried along anyway.

* * *

Dr. Reid stepped off the plane, blinking in the bright light of the Gotham afternoon and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. Bruce was waiting by the entrance and raised a hand in greeting. Reid waved back and strode toward him, his hand extended.

"Hello, Bruce."

Bruce warmly shook his hand. "Spencer, so good to see you again. Was your flight all right?"

"Oh, it was amazing! Believe me, they don't have Dom Perignon on the BAU jet."

Bruce laughed. "Well, only the best for my guests." He slipped an arm around Reid and squeezed his shoulders, then led the slender young man to his car. They spent the trip to Bruce's penthouse chatting about the weather back in Quantico, the weather there in Gotham, then moved on to the crime rate, the corruption in Gotham city government, and the challenges and frustrations that Harvey Dent, Rachel, and Jim Gordon had been facing in doing their jobs.

"So, Batman appears to have been born out of that frustration," Reid said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there must be some sort of personal connection for a man to take such risks, to work under the radar of legitimate law enforcement. Since he's not Harvey Dent, one must assume he's someone else with a real attachment to something-or someone-associated with the heart of the city."

"Oh?"

"Yes, that or what I call a reverse psychopath."

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, a psychopath lacks the ability to empathize with, or feel normal human emotions-a person with no conscience and no sense of personal responsibility. Batman sounds like the exact opposite, to an unnatural extreme."

"Hm. Well, that's an interesting theory."

"Ever since I interviewed the Joker, I've been thinking about it. It's very interesting to me."

"I see. You're in a very tough line of work yourself, profiling criminals. Why do you do it?"

"It just sort of happened. I was becoming rather well-known in the academic community for my talents with forensic analysis, and I was courted by a member of the BAU to join the team when I graduated. I could see it would be a lot more challenging and meaningful than becoming a professor or a researcher at a university. It hasn't been an easy path..." Reid paused, and when he continued, Bruce noted that his voice had became slightly strained. "...but it's a good fit for me."

"Mm."

"Do you enjoy _your _work?"

"Huh?"

"Uh-being head of Wayne Enterprises. That must be very demanding."

"Oh, yes. It is. Keeps me busy!" Bruce smiled distractedly.

"Well, I don't envy you. There must be a tremendous amount of responsibility on your shoulders, alone."

"I have a team of people I trust."

"That's good-I know how important that is."

"Yes. Well, to change the subject, what do you like to do for fun?"

"Fun?" The doctor looked puzzled.

"Yes, I know you've got plans to do the tourist thing tomorrow, but I thought we might do something together later tonight, after dinner. Catch a show, or a movie?"

"I'm in your hands, Bruce. I'm completely open."

Bruce smiled.

* * *

Deep inside Arkham's dank basement, the Joker giggled as he stepped over the body of the storeroom attendant. He popped open a locked cabinet and found his street clothes, tsk-ing at how poorly his things had been cared for. He took a moment to inhale his own scent-gasoline and smoke, stale sweat and greasepaint-still redolent in the folds of his shirt and coat.

He unzipped the blood-spattered white jumpsuit he was wearing, pulled it down and off his legs. He threw it over the attendant as a little farewell tribute. He stripped off his Arkham-issued underwear and socks, then raised his arms over his head and stretched, taking a moment to bask in his nakedness.

It felt good. His bare skin was caressed by the air from a small oscillating fan that ruffled the hair on his arms and chest, and he thoughtfully ran his hands over himself, from ropy biceps to bony hips. Mm. It was a shame his Bat wasn't there to appreciate him, but-oh, well. Soon...

He dressed carefully, as befitted a man on his way to a very special, albeit surprise, date. He set his suspenders just right and tied his tie perfectly. When he was done, he strode out of the storeroom and made his way through the labyrinth of underground Arkham, until he came to an exterior door; he put on the doctor's coat and mask he'd taken off of one of his earlier victims, then pulled a tool out of his slacks, picked the lock, and headed for the parking lot. He located the doctor's car, showed his credentials to the disinterested gatekeeper, and headed out toward the Palisades.

When the Wayne penthouse came into view, he pulled over and savored the urban vista before him. He glanced at his face in the rearview mirror and took a small leather bag out of his coat pocket.

He took his time putting on his makeup.


	3. This Evening's Entertainment

**A/N: Augh, so sorry to take so long with an update. **

**I'm really missing Heath lately, guess it's the holidays. So, need a little clown action!**

**Hope you like it! **

**Seds**

* * *

Bruce easily navigated through the Gotham afternoon traffic, and he and Spencer arrived at the Wayne penthouse in a short time. Bruce escorted his guest to the entry hallway, where they were immediately greeted by Alfred. Bruce proudly presented Spencer to him.

"Alfred, I'd like you to meet Dr. Spencer Reid."

"At last! I've heard so much about you, sir."

"Oh, thank you. It's nice to meet you, too." Spencer submitted to Alfred's vigorous handshake with a smile. He'd always envisioned butlers as being reserved and aloof, but Alfred was warm and effusive, and instantly managed to make him feel at home.

"Well, it's a great honor. If it weren't for you, two very special people wouldn't be with us today, and-" Spencer felt a flush of red come to his cheeks and he gave Bruce a "Help me!" look.

"All right, Alfred, I think you've embarrassed the poor doctor enough. How about bringing us a couple of glasses of chablis?" Bruce suggested.

Alfred nodded deferentially. "Of course, sir..." He put a hand up to his mouth as if sharing a secret with Spencer and stage-whispered, "But, it really is good to meet you." He winked, then went to get their drinks.

"Wow, I've never met a real butler before," Spencer said.

Bruce nodded. "Yes, but Alfred is so much more than that. He raised me after my parents died. He's family."

"Oh-I'm so sorry, I didn't know about your parents."

Bruce stared out a window for a moment before speaking. "They'd taken me to see a show downtown. I became frightened and insisted that we leave. A robber waylaid us outside the theater and shot them dead."

"Oh, my God. That's horrible, I'm so sorry."

Bruce turned his gaze back to Spencer. "It was a long time ago."

"But, that doesn't make it any easier, does it?"

"No, it doesn't. But, enough of that. Would you like a tour? This is only temporary until the manor is rebuilt, but it's actually quite nice..."

Alfred returned with the wine glasses, and Bruce showed Spencer around the penthouse. They chatted for a while, then Bruce suggested that Spencer retire to the guest room and take a few minutes to relax before getting ready for dinner. Spencer was just about to agree when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID-it was Morgan. He grimaced, remembering his long-overdue promise, then smiled apologetically at Bruce.

"Excuse me. This'll only take a minute." He clicked the phone to "talk" as he walked to the far corner of the large room for privacy. "Reid here."

"So, you're not dead."

"Excuse me?"

"You told me you would call when you got there. I guess you were too busy with the billionaire to bother."

"Oh, Derek, for heaven's sake. I'm sorry, there just hasn't been a moment when I could gracefully step away-"

"Yeah, right. Well, as long as you're still alive, that's all that matters. Have a great time."

"Derek-" But, he had already hung up.

"Problem?" Bruce asked, strolling up to Spencer.

"Oh, no, not really. It's just-never mind. Um... you mentioned the guest room?"

"Alfred, would you please show Dr. Reid to his room, and make sure he has everything he needs? Spencer, I'm going to make a few phone calls before dinner-I'll see you in just a bit."

Spencer nodded. "Thanks, Bruce." He followed the butler to the guest room, then stretched out on the bed to ponder his exchange with Derek. He frowned in irritation and stared up at the ceiling.

If Derek Morgan had so little trust in him, maybe he wasn't ready to be in a serious relationship, after all.

* * *

The dinner guests arrived within minutes of each other. Bruce had just enough time to introduce Barbara Gordon, Commissioner Jim Gordon's wife, to Spencer before Rachel and Harvey were led into Bruce's living room as well.

"Dr. Reid, I am so happy to finally meet you." Rachel Dawes hastened to take Spencer's hand in both of hers and squeezed it tightly. "You have no idea how grateful I am to you, how grateful we both are-Harvey, get over here and shake Dr. Reid's hand!"

"It's a pleasure, Dr. Reid. You can't imagine. I've waited much too long to say this to you in person, but-thank you. Thank you for your help. When I think of what could have happened-"

"Well, I really appreciate everyone saying such nice things, but if it hadn't been for Commissioner Gordon inviting me in for a consultation, I wouldn't have had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to meet a real criminal mastermind." Spencer's eyes brightened and he began to sound like a twelve-year-old baseball fan talking about meeting a legendary pitcher. "I know this probably sounds creepy, but that was a huge thrill for me. I learned so much! It was really amazing to speak to the Joker face-to-face. In fact, I'm hoping that someday I can arrange to have an interview with him in Arkham. There's a paper I'm working on, and I think that would be an absolutely fascinating addition to-"

"Uh-would anybody like some wine?" Bruce interjected. He'd seen the look on Rachel's face when the Joker's name was mentioned; Jim came up and clamped a hand warmly on Spencer's shoulder.

"That's just Bruce's way of telling you that not everyone has been as delighted to meet the Joker as you were, son. But, make no mistake-you did a wonderful thing. We're all very grateful."

"That includes me," Barbara added. "The Joker's responsible for some of the worst moments of my life." She cast a glance at her husband. "I'm just happy he's finally locked up where he can't hurt anyone anymore. So, thank you, Dr. Reid. Thank you so much."

"To Spencer!" Bruce raised a toast and they all smiled and clinked glasses. Spencer shook his head in acute embarrassment.

"Please, everyone, thank you, but this really was just part of my job. The good days are the ones when everything works as it's supposed to, and unfortunately, those are far fewer in number than we'd like. But, I can tell you one thing-the day Mr. Dent and Miss Dawes were rescued was a very good day for me."

"Me, too," said Bruce quietly. A somber air engulfed the room as Bruce held up his glass and looked from face to face. "Rachel, you're my oldest friend. Harvey, you've brought hope to this city and happiness to Rachel. That means more to me than you'll ever know. And, Dr. Reid-thank you. Thank you for answering Jim's call. I don't even want to think about what would have happened if you hadn't."

They again clinked their glasses together. Alfred stepped in to announce that dinner was ready, and everyone moved to the formal dining room to take their seats.

* * *

"Good night, Bruce. This was all so wonderful. Spencer, you're an absolute delight." Rachel gave Spencer a tight hug. He smiled shyly and patted her back.

"Yeah, and, listen-if you ever need legal advice, just give me a call. No charge." Harvey shook his hand, and Spencer laughed appreciatively.

"Well, don't worry. I won't hesitate to take you up on that, should the need arise."

Jim and Barbara also said their goodbyes, but everyone milled around Bruce's door for a while, not quite ready to let go of the night. Eventually, however, the two couples left the penthouse and headed to their cars.

No one noticed a black sedan with medical license plates and an Arkham ID sticker slowly cruising down the street. The Joker took in the departing guests and grinned. Wayne must have thrown quite a party. That was okay-he'd had no interest in crashing it. Been there, done that.

He was more interested in getting the guest of honor alone for a little while.

He wanted to know what the Bat would think about that...

* * *

After locking the door behind his guests, Bruce turned to Spencer with a rueful grin on his face.

"Wow-I thought they'd never leave. Those characters can talk for hours, can't they?"

"They're all very interesting people."

"Yes, they are." Bruce walked up to Spencer and put his hands on his shoulders. "But, to be honest, I find you to be... far more interesting than all of them." He leaned forward and brushed his lips over Spencer's, then pulled back and smiled. Spencer stared at him, momentarily speechless.

"Uh..."

"Shh. I'm sorry, I know I'm being forward. It's just that we have so little time, and I really would like to get to know you better." He pulled Spencer into his arms and kissed him again, and this time it was a rich, deep, passionate kiss. Spencer had had more wine than he was used to, and the room began to swirl. He leaned into the kiss, into Bruce's muscular frame. He thought of Derek-_If you're going to fuck him, do me a favor and use a condom-_and he wondered if he really could, if he really could indulge in a one-night stand with someone he barely knew.

A low, creepy laugh derailed his train of thought.

Bruce pulled away and they both turned to face the Joker as he descended the staircase. His laugh trailed off into a slight wheeze.

"Ah. Look at this. What're you doing, Brucey? Auditioning a little Boy Wonder for the Bat?"

"Damn it. How'd you get out of Arkham?" Spencer noted that Bruce's voice held absolutely no fear whatsoever.

"Oh, good, I managed to surprise you. Actually, I'm a little late, but I didn't think your other guests wanted to watch this part of the evening's... entertainment." The Joker had a knife in his hand; he held it up and waggled it teasingly.

Bruce stepped away from Spencer and moved toward the Joker. "What do you want?"

The Joker rolled his eyes upward as if in thought. "Let's see. For starters, I want you to take a little nap." He licked his lips and held the knife threateningly as he took a step forward. Bruce immediately lunged at him; he would have easily disarmed him, but in focusing on the weapon, he missed what Spencer saw immediately-a hypodermic syringe in the Joker's other hand. He plunged it into Bruce's neck just as their bodies made contact, and he watched with amusement as Bruce sank to his knees, then fell unconscious onto the floor. The Joker's lips twisted into a sardonic grin, and he moved toward Spencer, who was watching him approach, amazed.

"That was good," Spencer said, gesturing toward Bruce's prone body with genuine admiration.

"Oh?"

"Yes-a real magician's trick. Distraction. I know, I do a little magic myself. You're... you're very adept."

"Mm." The Joker was now inches away from Spencer, with one hand in his pocket. He slowly withdrew a pistol and aimed it at Spencer's heart. "I do like to perform an act of prestidigitation every now and then-and, right now, I'm going to make a doctor... disappear." He chuckled and pulled back the trigger.

"Wait!" Spencer suddenly felt cold fear rush through him. The Joker was fascinating, he was intelligent-profoundly so-but he was also stone cold crazy. Was he really about to die? He had to do _something. _Engage him in some way... "Why do you want to kill me?"

The Joker raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't, not yet, anyway. But, I do want to have a little fun with you, and, honestly? I just don't think this is the right venue for what I have in mind. So, I'm going to make sure you don't do something stupid that would make me have to kill you." He lowered the pistol and aimed at Spencer's leg. "You see, I'm doing this for your own good. Doctor." He fired and Spencer felt hot steel tear through his thigh. He cried out and fell down. The Joker hummed pleasantly under his breath, clicked a pair of handcuffs onto Spencer's wrists, then put an arm around the young man's waist and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

He paused to flick something out of his breast pocket onto Bruce's still-unconscious body. Spencer saw that it was a playing card. Then, the Joker carried him out of the penthouse, down to the street, and laid him in the back of his stolen car.


	4. Derek Works the Case

**A/N: Hello, dear ones! I'm having a lot of fun with this story-hope you like this chapter. It's mostly procedural, but we get Bruce and Derek dealing with each other as they try to find poor Dr. Reid! Reviews are savored, mmm...**

**Seds**

* * *

Alfred was tired. It had been a big evening; even though the dinner party had been small, it had taken a lot of preparation, and Alfred was a bit of a perfectionist, wanting to see to the details himself. He had just gotten into bed, settled in, and slipped into a blissful sleep when the unmistakable sound of a gunshot-close, downstairs, judging by the decibel level-tore through his well-deserved slumber. He sat upright and scrabbled for his glasses, then grabbed a robe and headed to the landing. He looked down and saw Bruce Wayne lying in a heap on the living room floor.

No one else was in the room, but the door was gaping open. Alfred raced downstairs, fell to his knees beside Bruce and started examining him. No blood. He was breathing fine, but out cold. Alfred saw the playing card lying between Bruce's shoulder blades. He carefully picked it up, using his robe so as not to ruin evidence.

It was a joker card, of course. And, it bore a message; printed in black ink was the word, "CHEATER."

"Oh, God, not him," Alfred whispered as he reached for the phone to call 9-1-1. Just then, Bruce began to stir. He made a groggy moan, and Alfred gently shook him.

"Sir-are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"Huh? Uh, no. No, I don't think so. What... What happened?" Bruce struggled into a sitting position, and Alfred checked his vitals and looked for signs of injury. He noted the tiny needle mark in Bruce's neck.

"You seem to be all right. But, where is Dr. Reid?"

"Spencer..." As full consciousness returned, Bruce scrambled to his feet, with Alfred's help.

"Damn it, Spencer! Where are you!" he shouted hoarsely. At that moment, both men spotted the blood on the hardwood floor nearby.

"The Joker." Bruce spat the words. "He was here, he threatened me with a knife, then... I don't remember anything after that."

"I heard a gunshot, but by the time I got out of bed, he was gone. He left his calling card, as usual."

Bruce had his cell phone in hand and had already punched in a number, but he glanced at the card.

"'_Cheater?_' What the hell?"

"I'm sure I have no idea, sir. I'll go check upstairs, just in case Dr. Reid's still here somewhere." He turned and hurried back up the stairs.

Just then, Bruce's call was answered. "James Gordon."

"Jim, it's Bruce."

"Are you all right? You don't sound good."

"I'm not. The Joker was here-he's escaped from Arkham. He had a knife. He threatened me, then apparently injected me with something to knock me out. And, I think Spencer Reid is missing. He may be hurt-Alfred heard a gunshot."

"Oh, God."

"Yeah."

Alfred called from the railing, "Master Wayne, there's no sign of him up here. I'll check further downstairs, but-"

Bruce nodded grimly before returning to his phone conversation. "He left a card behind, it has the word 'Cheater' written on it. I have no idea what that means, but-"

"I'll get a task force together, he won't make it out of the city. Don't worry, Bruce, we'll catch him. We'll find Dr. Reid, too."

"I hope so." Bruce clicked off the phone and looked up to see Alfred come in from the kitchen, sorrowfully shaking his head.

"He's not here."

Bruce knelt to examine the blood. "There's not a lot; it must be a minor injury, so that's good. But, where could he have taken him? And, why?"

"I imagine he-"

The front door was still open, and the men's conversation stopped short at the sound of a cell phone's commanding beep, coming from outside the front door. Bruce and Alfred glanced at each other. "Damn it-the Joker must have left Spencer's cell phone behind to prevent us using its GPS," Bruce said as he dashed out to find the source.

An LED light was shining from within a potted plant to the side of the door. Bruce reached in and looked at the screen; it read, "Derek." A picture of a smiling, handsome African-American man in a tight muscle shirt peered back at him. Bruce quickly hit the "Talk" button.

"This is Bruce Wayne."

Silence on the other end. Then, a disgruntled "I'm sorry? I was calling for Dr. Reid."

"Yes, this is his phone."

"Okay, well, this is Derek Morgan. May I speak with him?" The voice sounded indignant. Bruce squeezed his eyes closed; he'd heard Spencer say the name "Derek", and he'd heard the tone he used when speaking with him. Bruce put two and two together; the likelihood that Derek Morgan was nothing more than Spencer's friend, or possibly a co-worker, was rapidly diminishing.

"Uh-well, he's... not available, at the moment."

Bruce could hear a disgusted huff on the other end. "Look, man, I don't know what's going on over there, but I'd appreciate it if you'd let Spencer know I'm calling for him. I think he'll want to speak to me." _Maybe, _Derek thought, his confidence lagging a bit.

"Who are you, exactly?" Bruce thought he could hear sirens in the distance.

"I happen to be Special Supervisory Agent Derek Morgan, with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. I work with Reid, and I'm also his... friend. And, I need to speak with him, so-"

"He's not here."

"What do you mean, he's not there?"

"Something's happened. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but... Spencer's missing."

"Missing! What the-you lure my boy to your crazy town and now you've lost him? What the hell happened?"

"The Joker. The Joker broke in and I think he has Spencer."

Derek could hear the sound of a rapidly approaching police siren on the other end of the phone, so he decided Wayne must be telling the truth. His heart froze at the thought of Spencer in the hands of a psychopath like the Joker.

"The Joker! What would that freak want with Spencer? How did he-"

"I'm so sorry. I need to go, I'll call you when I have some news-"

"Oh, uh-uh, no way. I'm heading your way, I'll be there in five minutes."

"What? You can't get here in five minutes-"

"The hell I can't."

_"From Virginia?"_

"No, man, I'm in Gotham, in a cab, I'm on my way now. That's what I was calling to tell Spencer-I decided if he was going on a sightseeing tour tomorrow, that I'd like to go along with him. So, I hopped on a plane and headed for your place." _Not that I was jealous, or thought I might be interrupting something..._

"Wait, no, you-"

"Do you understand who I am? I profile killers. I'll track the bastard down, and I'll-he better not hurt Reid, or I'll take his heart out through his throat."

A corner of Bruce's mouth turned up. Whatever the relationship between Derek Morgan and Spencer, it was easy to tell that Morgan cared very much for the young profiler. "All right. I'm sure the Gotham PD will appreciate the help. I'll be looking for you."

Less than ten minutes later, Derek Morgan was standing in Bruce Wayne's living room. The police had spread out to search the penthouse, the exterior areas, and the street below. A hot dog vendor from the next block reported having noticed a man carrying something-yes, it could have been a person, although that hadn't occurred to him at the time-he'd seen him get into a black car. No, he didn't see the license plate, he was too far away.

There were no other witnesses.

"So, he comes in here like he owns the place-what, a big shot billionaire like you has no security system?" Derek's taunting tone irritated Bruce. He already felt guilty and responsible for Spencer's kidnapping, and having this arrogant man underscore it just made him angry.

"Of course I do. But, the Joker-things like that don't stop him."

"Hmph." Derek walked the route from the stairs to where the Joker had stood, brandishing his knife. "All right, now, what did he say? Tell me exactly."

"Uh-" The Joker's first words were about the fact that Bruce was kissing Spencer, and Bruce had no intention of admitting to Derek Morgan that he had kissed Spencer. "He said he wanted me to take a nap. Then, he threatened me with the knife, and I lunged forward to take it away from him, and-"

"Oh, you thought you could disarm a psycho? You got some martial arts skills or something?" Derek gave him a dubious look.

"Actually, yes, I've studied self-defense techniques for years. Anyway, he faked me out and jabbed a needle into my neck. I don't remember anything after that, until Alfred came to help me."

"Mm-hm. Okay, so he didn't say anything else?"

"Some nonsense about my guests missing the 'evening's entertainment.' He fancies himself a showman, I suppose."

Derek directed a grim look at Bruce. "And, that was it? He didn't say anything about why he wanted Dr. Reid? No talk of money, or some other kind of ransom?"

"No."

"But, there was a playing card he left behind. May I have a look at it?"

Bruce nodded, and called to Jim, who handed the bagged evidence to Derek.

He examined it closely. "You say this is his trademark? He's left cards like this before?"

"Yes."

"Always with a hand-written note on them?"

Jim paused and glanced at Bruce. "No-actually, the messages are usually typed. But, perhaps he didn't have access to a typewriter this time."

"Yeah. But, handwriting is very personal. And, look, he really bore down on the pen, the writing's, like, pressed deep into the cardboard. Seems like he might of been angry about something." He shot a sharp look at Bruce. "What does 'Cheater' mean to you?"

"Nothing. I can't imagine what he's referring to."

"Do you know him? Personally, I mean?"

"The Joker? No, of course not. He broke into my home once before and disrupted a fund-raiser I was having for Harvey Dent, but that's the only time I've actually seen him face to face." Bruce shifted uncomfortably and avoided Derek's eyes-behavior that did not go unnoticed by the profiler.

Derek strode over to the blood on the floor. He knelt down and examined it from every angle. Bruce and Jim exchanged puzzled glances. "What are you doing?"

"They found the bullet, so that means it went straight through, and they can check for DNA to be sure it was Reid that was shot, but we can assume that it was. This is a very small amount of blood, and it's a smear, not drips or spray. That suggests it transferred when Reid was on the floor, and he smeared the blood with his clothes. There's no other sign of blood between here and the exit-he didn't track it on his shoes, and it didn't fall from the wound, which is good." Derek looked at Bruce. "Can I have a word with you? In private?"

"If you have some insight into this, young man, I need to know about it," Jim cautioned sternly.

"Of course, but I just need to ask Mr. Wayne something... personal." He gave Jim a wry look. "I'd appreciate you keeping this confidential, but-Dr. Reid and I are in a relationship."

Jim raised an eyebrow, then nodded in understanding. "Ah. I see. All right-I'll be outside." Jim stepped out to consult with his men. Bruce turned to Derek.

"What is it?"

"So, Alfred heard a gunshot. There was blood. It's safe to assume that the Joker shot Reid. But, he also had a knife-knife attacks are about emotion, they're up close and personal, visceral, and you say he threatened you with one. But, he didn't use it on Reid, he used a gun. A gun's nothing more than a tool-it's clean, removed."

"So?"

"So, I don't think this is about Reid, himself. I think it has to do with someone associated with Reid. Normally, I'd assume that someone to be you, Mr. Wayne. But, you say you don't know the Joker. Plus, Reid told me that the Joker admitted to having feelings for... Batman." Derek suppressed a sneer at the thought of someone donning a bat outfit to fight crime. "So, this doesn't make sense to me. Why would he target you? And, what does the message on the card mean? 'Cheater.' Why would he think you're a cheater?"

Bruce crossed his arms across his chest. "I have no idea. This is ridiculous, trying to understand the thought process of a madman like the Joker. No one knows what he's got in his mind, he's insane."

"He's a psychopath. They're very logical, and very egotistical. Normally, I'd expect the Joker to at least give some sort of clue as to what he's up to. He figures you're not smart enough to figure it out, so he'd take perverse pleasure in saying something to taunt you." Derek studied Bruce's stormy expression. "Are you sure he didn't say anything else to you when he came in?"

Bruce dropped his gaze to the floor and took a breath. He then looked Derek in the eye. "He said, 'Auditioning a Boy-Wonder for the Bat?'"

Derek frowned. "What the hell did that mean?"

"I was... kissing Dr. Reid when the Joker walked in on us."

Derek's jaw clenched. His stomach turned over, and he knew that if he weren't a trained agent, he would be putting his fist right into Bruce Wayne's face, but he forced the emotion down like a jack-in-the-box.

"I see. So-do you know Batman? Is that the connection?"

"I... Yes, I know Batman."

"The Joker assumes you have some way to communicate with him?"

"Yes."

"But, Batman's not the cheater. Is he?"

"I-"

"Listen to me." Derek's voice was low, but his tone was like ice. "I am going to find Spencer. I will not let that freak hurt him. But, I have no information to work with. A profile is created by studying a criminal's history as well as his actions. I don't have that. Whatever you know-I need to know it, too. Tell me the truth, Wayne. Tell me the goddamn truth. Why did the Joker take Reid?"

Bruce leveled a grim look into Derek's eyes. "I can't talk about it here. Come with me." Derek clenched and unclenched his fists, but followed Bruce to an elevator. They took it all the way down, until they were below ground. Bruce led him to a door which he unlocked, and they walked through a dimly-lit tunnel to another door. Bruce punched in a code and two steel doors opened into a cavern. Derek gave a low whistle.

"Damn-what is this place?"

"You're an FBI agent, right? I can trust you with a secret?"

"I'm not playing games with you, man-"

"No game. I'm going to tell you something and you cannot repeat it to a soul. Ever."

"Yeah, all right, fine. What?"

"I'm Batman."

Derek stared for a moment, then stepped back, laughing. "Oh, right. Sure, that's a good one. You run around at night wearing black pajamas and a mask, beating up dope dealers, huh?" Derek's amusement quickly passed. "I ought to knock your lights out, man. We are wasting time."

"Yes, we are. Listen to me. The Joker and I were-what was your phrase?-'in a relationship.' Yes, it was sick, insane, I know that. That's why I ended it. I was determined to leave him in Arkham and start my life over, try to find someone-normal. Meeting Spencer gave me hope that I could."

Derek narrowed his eyes. "You... you had some twisted 'love affair' going with a goddamned murdering clown? Man, you're some kind of lunatic, yourself." It seemed unbelievable, that the well-dressed man in front of him could be involved with a psychopathic criminal like the Joker, but he could see from Bruce's manner that he was telling the painful truth, or at least, he himself believed it.

Bruce sighed. His self-loathing rose in his throat, threatening to choke his words, but he continued. "I tried to stave it off as long as I could, but there was... an attraction. Somehow, I couldn't help it." He raised his eyes. "But, it's over now, and that must be what's behind him kidnapping Spencer. He wants to pay me back for abandoning him." The two men stared at each other. "So, tell me, Agent Morgan-what more do you need to know?"

"Let's start with the basics. Do you have a map and something to write with?"

Bruce turned and went to the wall of the Bat Cave and pulled down a Gotham City map. He found a dry erase marker and handed it to Derek. He studied the map for a moment, then circled the location of Bruce's penthouse. "We're here. Now, did you and the Joker, uh-meet here, often?" Derek fought off a shudder.

"No, never. He... He didn't even know my true identity until he was in Arkham."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "How'd he find out?"

Bruce gave him a stony look. "I took off my mask."

Derek decided not to allow that mental image to distract him. "Where does the Joker live?"

Bruce snorted. "Nowhere. Anywhere. Wherever he wants. He once told me the whole city is his playground. When he needs sleep, which isn't often, he curls up in an alleyway, or on a roof. Sometimes, he takes a room in some fleabag motel in the Narrows."

"But, he must have a home base-"

"He has some vehicles he keeps around the city, and he holes up in abandoned buildings when he's planning a job-but, no place in particular."

Derek shook his head. "Where's he from? Where'd he grow up?"

Bruce laughed out loud. "Who the hell knows? He'll tell you a million stories, none of them true. Or, maybe, all of them are true to him. What difference does it make?"

"Spencer always says that killers like to stay in their comfort zone, places they know well. Places that mean something to them. You're saying we're looking at this entire city." He pursed his lips. "There's got to be a place that's important to him. Where did you and he, uh, you know, get together-the first time?"

Bruce looked at Derek uncertainly. "You mean, where did we have sex?"

"Yeah."

"In Arkham. Only in Arkham."

A disgusted sound came from Derek's throat. "God damn, man, how could you-"

"Look, I'm not proud of this, all right? But, it happened. It just... happened."

"Show me where Arkham is located."

Bruce drew a circle around the spot. Derek made some mental calculations.

"That's less than ten miles from here. Let's go."

"You think he took him back there? Why would he?"

"What you and he did there together means something to him. And, he knows you know that. I think he wants you to find him. Come on, we don't have much time."

"Just a minute." Bruce strode across the Bat Cave and pushed a button on a storage capsule. The bat suit was slowly revealed, and Bruce quickly began his transformation into Batman. Derek gaped at him.

"What the _hell _are you doing?"

"This is a rescue mission. I need to be prepared. Give me a hand, will you?"

Derek joined him and helped him with some clasps and admired the suit. "This is freaky, dude. What does this thing do?" he asked, putting his hand on a button on the Bat's utility belt. Bruce slapped it away.

"Don't."

"But-"

"This is what he wants; he wants Batman. And, trust me-wearing this suit, I have everything I need to deal with the Joker." Bruce put on the cowl and mask, then led Derek to the exterior door and brought out the Tumbler. "Get in."

Derek's mouth was hanging open by now, but he obediently hopped in the passenger seat. This was all insane, and he was fairly certain that it was actually some fevered nightmare that he would soon be waking up from, so he might as well go with the flow. There was no point in applying logic to a nightmare.

**Next chapter: The Joker has Spencer-uh-oh...**


	5. The Boiler Room

**A/N: Howdy, Crossover friends! Well, when we last left poor Spencer, he was unconscious and in the Joker's clutches. In this chapter, we find out what the Joker has in mind for him. Hope you like, please review! **

* * *

It wasn't the pain that woke Spencer.

It was the smell.

Coppery, raw, metallic... Sharp and familiar. One doesn't work in law enforcement for very long without learning to recognize the smell of fresh blood. What wrestled him into consciousness was the realization that it was emanating from his own chest.

The wounds burned, but not unbearably so. It felt rather like a rabid cat had attacked him. Aware of someone standing over him, he fought to open his eyes. Everything was bleary for a moment, but as his vision cleared, he recognized the wiry frame of the Joker. He was bent over Spencer's torso, his face obscured by a mop of stringy greenish-blond hair, but Spencer caught glimpses of chalk-white greasepaint as the madman shifted his posture.

"What... What are you doing?" Spencer's voice was weak.

"Ah, Sleeping Beauty. Nice to have you back." The Joker turned a steely eye to Spencer's face. He took his chin in his hand and turned his face from side to side. "You really are pretty, you know that? Lots prettier than what's-her-name."

"Huh?"

"Uh-what was it, Rachel? Yeah. I get it. I know what ol' Brucey sees in you." He straightened; his yellow-toothed grin caused Spencer to recoil-the dim light gave the clown a ghostly appearance-and the Joker giggled at his reaction. "You're not really my type, though. Sorry-I know you've kind of got a thing for me." He gave Spencer an exaggeratedly regretful glance, then walked away, and for the first time, Spencer had a chance to gather his thoughts and look around.

He was in a dank windowless room lit by a single industrial light fixture that dangled askew, as if someone had long ago attempted to yank it down. The rust-stained concrete walls were a depressing gray. There were several pieces of out-dated, dust-covered medical equipment haphazardly stored in a corner. Spencer estimated that they would have been in use circa the 1940s. There was a droning sound coming from the opposite corner-a huge boiler was laboring away, and Spencer could hear the occasional whooshing of water rushing through pipes above their heads.

"Wh-where are we?"

"Ah-this is my favorite little home-away-from-home."

"Arkham? We're in Arkham?"

"Mm-hm. The boiler room, to be exact. Great place for intimate little get-togethers, as the Bat and I have discovered. Oh, and I took the liberty of dressing you for the occasion. Doctor."

Spencer looked down at himself.

He was dressed in nothing but his underwear and a doctor's coat-it was pushed open, revealing his bare chest. The formerly white coat was streaked with blood, some, but not all, of which came from Spencer's own flesh. He could make out some sort of pattern etched into his skin by the slender blade of the Joker's knife. He forced himself to keep his voice steady.

"I'm not a medical doctor, you know."

"Yeah, whatever. Jeeze, it's just a little joke."

Spencer struggled to sit up, but he found that his wrists were bound with leather straps, as were his ankles. He was lying on an old-fashioned hospital bed-a heavy metal frame with a stained mattress on top of rusty springs-and he felt a swell of panic rise in his throat as the Joker moved back to stand beside him, knife in hand. Spencer couldn't help staring at it.

"Please stop," he whispered.

"Hm? Oh, I'm done. I was just keeping busy while waiting for you to wake up. You know what they say about idle hands..."

"You mean-you cut me... recreationally?"

"Have a look. Pretty good, huh?" The Joker held up a cracked hand mirror, allowing Spencer to look down at himself. A thin crescent-shaped wound that spanned the width of his belly was leaking blood; blood also trickled from a pair of circles that had been cut in directly above it. A sick feeling came over Spencer as he realized that the Joker had just carved a smiley face into his torso.

"Wh-why'd you, why'd you... Ow." The dull ache in Spencer's thigh suddenly came into sharp focus as he tried to pull up his leg.

"Consider it a gift. A little reminder for you and, you know, whoever, not to take things so... seriously." The Joker lifted the edge of the white coat and wiped the blood from his knife. "Sorry about sticking a blade into you, Doc, I know Bruce was planning to stick something else into you..." A wheeze of amusement escaped from the Joker's throat, and Spencer felt a renewed wave of nausea hit him.

"I think I'm going to be sick-can you please let me up?"

"No, no, no. You're all right. Just, you know, take a couple of deep breaths. There, see? Relax."

Having no option other than to work himself into a state of hysteria, Spencer took the Joker's advice. He noticed the Joker watching him curiously, as if he were a specimen on a slide. Oddly, he didn't seem particularly threatening; Spencer decided to try to engage him in conversation.

"Can you please tell me what we're doing here?"

The Joker swirled his knife dismissively. "We're... waiting."

"For what?"

"For the Bat to put two and two together. I have to warn you, kid-he's a little slow on the uptake, know what I mean? So, we may be here a while." Noting the look on Spencer's face, he added, "Aw, don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you."

"You've already hurt me. You shot me, and now you've scarred me with a knife."

The Joker laughed. "Okay, okay, good point. Let's just say I'm not going to hurt you any more, uh, for now. Tell you what, let's chat. What's Bruce like in the sack?"

"I-I have no idea, I didn't sleep with him."

"Oh? Little virgin, are you?"

"No..." Spencer wasn't sure that discussing his sex life with a psychopath was a particularly good idea, but he supposed that anything that allowed him to stall for time must be a good thing. Anyway, it was possible that by talking about his personal life, he might humanize himself in the Joker's eyes and distract him from his fixation on Bruce Wayne, however that had come to be. "No, I have a, um, boyfriend."

"Yeah? Is he good-looking?"

"He's very handsome, yes."

"He pitches, you catch?"

Spencer stared at him, bewildered. "I'm sorry?"

"Does he fuck you, or the other way around?"

"Uh... That's really none of your business."

"Aw, never mind, I can guess." The Joker put his chin in his hand and propped his elbow on the side of the bed. He leaned in with an inquisitive expression. "So, does he looove you?"

"I... I don't know."

"Bet he'd be pissed if he knew you came to Gotham to take a little roll in the hay with Bruce Wayne, though, huh?"

"No! I mean, he would be, but I didn't! There's nothing going on between Bruce and I-"

"You sure were making kissy-face with him when I popped in." The Joker cocked his head reproachfully.

"That was... a mistake. I'd had a little too much to drink, we both had, and... Nothing would have happened."

"Really? You sure about that?" The Joker's eyes locked into his like a laser.

"Yes..." There had been a moment when Spencer wasn't sure, but now, in this dank basement, he knew-he could never do anything to hurt Derek. He cleared his throat. "Yes. I'm sure," he added firmly.

"Well... it's all sort of a moot point, anyway. Listen, not that this isn't fascinating, but I have lots of fun party games lined up-don't want the evening to get away from us!" He turned away, then came back with a rickety rolling table, the kind used to lay out surgical tools before an operation. A cold fear gripped Spencer's heart, until he realized that the items laid out were not scalpels, but different colored pots of greasepaint.

"Wh-what's all that for?"

"For you, kid. We're going to make you up all nice and pretty." He leaned in closer so that his face was only inches away from Spencer's. His voice dropped a few octaves. "Like me." He snickered, and again took Spencer's chin in his hand. "You know, I understand Bats. He doesn't think so, but I do. I know what he wants. He wants me, but he can't get over the guilt. He thinks too much, you know? Can't just... enjoy the moment." The Joker shook his head. "I keep telling him, you're ruining a good thing, but he doesn't listen. Has to go off looking for something else. Something that fits his sappy romantic notions a little better."

The Joker ran a blood-stained hand through Spencer's hair. "But, he doesn't realize it'll never work. You wouldn't make him happy, either."

"I told you, there's nothing between Bruce and I. And, anyway, why do you care? I thought you were... in love with Batman."

The Joker simply raised an eyebrow and smirked. Realization hit Spencer and his mouth fell open.

"Wait-you mean, Batman is Bruce Wayne?"

"Yeah. Clever, and so admirable. Billionaire playboy by day, tireless crime fighter by night... Just warms your heart."

Spencer gave him a dubious look. "And, you expect me to believe that a wonderful man like Bruce Wayne would be involved with a... a criminal like you?"

The Joker rolled his eyes. "I would think it would be harder for you to believe that a guy like me would be involved with an insipid twerp like Bruce Wayne. Which, by the way, I'm not. Couldn't care less about _him. _Batman, however? Now, there's an interesting proposition."

"Oh, my God. So-when you came into the penthouse and saw Bruce kissing me, you-"

"I was a little bit peeved, sure. But, it wasn't exactly unexpected. I knew he had you in his headlights."

"I don't understand."

"Look at you. You're nothing but a sanitized version of me!"

_"What?"_

The Joker shot a look of exasperation at him. "And, I thought you were supposed to be a genius. Look-" He picked up the hand mirror again and angled it so that Spencer could see his own face. "See? I know why the Bat picked you. Tall, skinny, the eyes, the mouth-he wants a guilt-free version of me. So-I'm going to give it to him." With that, the Joker put down the mirror and picked up a sponge. He dipped it in the white grease paint and began smearing it over Spencer's face.

"No! Wait, stop-" Spencer tried to pull away, but the Joker brought out his knife.

"Listen-you better hold still. I don't want this to be... messier than it has to be, understand?"

Spencer stared at the blade, then nodded. "All right." He submitted to the Joker's whim. The feel of the moist sponge wiping thick paint over his face was oddly soothing.

The Joker seemed to delight in his task. He meticulously covered Spencer's face in the white foundation, then hissed, "Close your eyes," and began applying black circles around Spencer's eyes. He then smeared red lipstick on and around his lips, mimicking his own style. When he was satisfied with Spencer's face, he shook a can of aerosol temporary hair color-green-and sprayed it into Spencer's hair until it was lank and greasy.

The Joker held up the hand mirror. Spencer gasped at the sight-he looked almost exactly like the Joker. "Oh, God..."

"Mm. Not too bad. Except for one little detail."

"What are you talking about?'

The Joker frowned. "Why, these of course."

He pulled his lips back in a grimace and slowly moved his head from side to side. Spencer's eyes grew wider as understanding dawned. "No..."

"Hey-hey, look at me. Listen. Bats thinks he wants a sweet little guy like you, but he doesn't, not really. I just have to find a way to make him understand. So, I'm going to bring you down to my level. I'll show him-it's like I always say. There's a thin line between genius and madness-all it takes is a little... push." A low laugh came up from the Joker's throat and he leaned back slightly. "Hey-you want to know how I got these scars? Once, I got locked in the boiler room at school. There was this crazy old janitor, and-" As the Joker spun his tale, he raised his knife and ran the tip lightly along Spencer's face from his cheek to a corner of his mouth, not quite breaking the skin, but sending a terrible shock of sensation through Spencer's already raw nervous system.

The air in the room seemed to thicken and suddenly, Spencer found it harder to breathe.


	6. All a Big Joke

**A/N: Last chapter, loves! Hope you enjoy it. Reviews are much appreciated. **

**Seds**

* * *

Derek sat in the passenger seat of the Tumbler, watching the bright lights of the Gotham night flash by. Batman stared straight ahead, focused on fluidly navigating the powerful vehicle between and around traffic. Finally, Derek couldn't stand the silence for another minute. He turned to face the masked man beside him and said, "I'm not judging you, man. But, I've studied human behavior for years, and I'm not having any luck understanding-what is it about the Joker? I mean, he's a killer. Why him? Why would you-"

The Bat's voice was low and gravelly. "He's not like any killer you've ever met. There's no textbook, no case study that explains him. He's... unique."

Derek made a scornful noise. "Maybe you haven't met as many serial killers as I have. They all have certain psychopathologies in common, every one of them can be placed in a particular category, and-"

Batman grunted in what might have been amusement. "You can't categorize the Joker."

Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "All right-tell me, what makes him so different?"

"He doesn't kill for enjoyment, although he does enjoy it. He doesn't care about money, but he always makes a profit. And-he's certainly capable of anger, but I've never known that to be a motivating factor behind what he does."

"So, his actions are senseless, random?"

"No, absolutely not. Everything he does, he does for a reason."

"And, what reason is that?"

"It took me a long time to figure it out, but now I know. To the Joker, people-life-everything-it's all a big joke. And, he lives for the punch line."

"That's ridiculous."

"Maybe so. In fact, he'd probably agree with you. But, that's the Joker. Ridiculous, absurd... insane. But, definitely not senseless."

Derek gazed out the window and mulled that over for a moment. Then, he looked back at Batman. "All right, then, what makes _you_ so special? Why is he obsessed with Batman?"

Batman continued to stare straight ahead. "I'm the only one who gets that the joke is on him." He sounded almost wistful.

Derek was no longer so certain that the Joker was the only one in need of intense psychiatric intervention, but he settled back and continued to watch the night rush by. Eventually, the hulking outline of Arkham appeared at the top of a hill, and Derek sat up straight. "Is that it? Is that the asylum?"

"Yes."

"It's... huge. How the hell will we find them?"

"Thanks to you, I know exactly where they are." Batman drove past the main gate, around to the rear delivery entrance. The gatekeeper barely looked up from his newspaper before allowing the vehicle to pass. The Tumbler came to a stop by a service door, and Batman jumped out, followed quickly by Derek.

"So-now what?" Derek asked.

"I'll go in first, you stay behind me. He's not expecting you-that's in our favor."

Batman opened the door and they peered into a pitch-black hallway. Derek huffed in exasperation. "We can't see, we'll be walking in blind-"

"Not quite. Stay with me." Batman activated his night vision, and Derek shook his head, but shadowed the vigilante's footsteps. The pathway was hot and smelled stale and musty; but, as they progressed, Derek spotted a light shining from under a doorway. Batman pointed.

"There."

The masked man put a staying hand on Derek's shoulder, then approached alone. He took an amplification tool from his belt and listened; on the other side of the door, he could hear the Joker's nasal tone going on about something, then Spencer's voice, strained but strong, answering back. He indicated success to Derek, then stepped away.

"They're in there; Spencer's okay, at the moment."

"Then, damn it, what're we waiting for? Let's go!"

"No. It's not that simple. We need to surprise him. That's a locked steel door, we couldn't open it without alerting him; besides, he's probably got it rigged."

"So, what do we do?"

"You stay here. I'm going in through the ceiling."

_"Huh?" _

"I'll get the door open as soon as I can."

Batman turned, and Derek hissed after him, "Hey-you don't even have a gun!"

"Don't need one." With that, the Bat disappeared, leaving a highly frustrated Derek pacing back and forth in almost total darkness.

* * *

Spencer knew he had to figure out a way to keep the Joker engaged in conversation as long as possible. Despite the blade at his cheek, he choked back his fear and said, "I don't understand. How do you think hurting me will bring Batman back to you?"

The Joker raised an eyebrow and twisted his lips thoughtfully. "Well-what would you do, if your boyfriend lost interest in you?"

"Lost interest? You really think Batman's lost interest in you?"

"Why else would he stop coming around? He's obviously found something a little more appealing to keep him busy. Something like... you."

"No-no, I don't think so. I think he just couldn't go on seeing someone whose behavior was in such conflict with his core values."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I mean-have you ever tried, you know-becoming the sort of person who _doesn't_ kill people?"

The Joker frowned. "What?"

"I'm just saying, maybe if you changed your behavior, then Batman would feel more comfortable being in a relationship with you."

Staring upwards, the Joker took the knife and idly scratched at his own jaw, apparently giving Spencer's words due consideration. Spencer relaxed a bit, but stiffened again as the knife returned to his cheek. The Joker smiled.

"I bet you're right, kid. But, it doesn't work that way. I can't change who I am, any more than he can. So..." The Joker shrugged. "...back to getting ready for our little party..."

Spencer tried to maintain eye contact, but the madman began to teasingly trail the cold steel blade lightly over his cheek, and it made him shiver. He tried to pull away, but the Joker held his jaw firmly in place. Still, Spencer managed to control his voice.

"Wait-please don't do this! Let's talk about you and Batman a little more-I really think things could work out between the two of you-you just have to decide what you want. Think about it, what's more important to you, Batman or-"

"Sh-sh-sh. Easy now-never mind about all that, let's focus on the task at hand. Nothing like a couple of scars to add some... interest to an otherwise dull face." The Joker leaned in and whispered in Spencer's ear. "And, trust me. Your sweetie? He's going to _love_ it." He giggled, then placed the knife just under Spencer's cheek bone. He frowned with concentration, his pink tongue wetly sliding over his garishly-painted lips as he prepared to create his masterpiece. Spencer gasped as he felt the tip of the blade prick into his skin.

Just then, the heel of a heavy black boot smashed through an air vent in the concrete ceiling. Batman lithely dropped through, cape fluttering down behind him. He rasped, "Let him go."

The Joker looked up, seemingly irritated. "Bats! Here already? I haven't finished preparing your little gift! Why don't you run along and give us a few more minutes, then he'll be all ready for you, and-"

"Drop the knife, Joker. Now."

Spencer was shocked; Batman's presence was overpowering, commanding-it didn't seem possible that easy-going Bruce Wayne could be under that mask. But, the Joker didn't budge. He moved the knife to Spencer's throat, positioning it over the carotid artery. "Well, you spoiled the surprise, Batsy, but if you want to join in the festivities, that's fine with me..." He looked down at Spencer, cradling his head against his chest, and Spencer uselessly attempted to pull away. "Shh, kid, it's okay-just a little nick in the right place, and you'll be out of the game in-"

"Four minutes. Death by exsanguination typically occurs within four minutes." Spencer woodenly recited the statistic; he couldn't help himself.

The Joker chuckled, then rested his chin on Spencer's head. "Yeah. Four minutes. There's a good little doctor." He smiled up at Batman; the masked man saw a thin line of blood appear as the knife began to split Spencer's flesh.

Batman raised a hand and a bat-a-rang shot into the Joker's face. He dropped the knife and fell to the floor, laughing madly. The Bat hastened to put himself between the Joker and Spencer, then turned his back to the clown and quickly released Spencer's right hand from the restraint. Just as he turned back, the Joker rose to his feet with a lead pipe in his hand. He lunged at Batman and hit him across his jaw, making him stumble backwards.

Spencer opened the strap on his left hand, then freed his feet. He dragged himself off of the hospital bed and tottered woozily, then limped toward the exit. The Bat and the Clown were locked in combat near the chugging old boiler, and Spencer unlocked the heavy steel door and opened it. He was bathed in yellow light from the room behind him, and Derek had a nightmare vision of a wild-eyed clown coming at him. He stuck a gun in Spencer's throat and shoved him against the hallway wall.

"Back up, clown."

For a moment, Spencer couldn't believe his eyes. Could it really be? Derek Morgan, here in the bowels of Arkham-ready to blast his head off?

"No! Derek-it's me! Spencer!" With the barrel of Derek's Glock at his neck, he was beginning to wonder if he was simply destined to die today, in one violent way or another. Derek stared suspiciously into his eyes, then slowly lowered the weapon.

"Spencer? Is that really you?"

"Yeah-he made me up like this. Hurry, Derek-we have to help Bruce."

Derek's face was set in grim lines. That maniac had been alone with his boy for a long time-Derek's mind was reeling with thoughts of what might have occurred. He gripped Spencer's shoulders and searched his face. "Tell me what he did to you."

Spencer knew what he was asking. "Nothing! I mean-nothing sexual." Derek relaxed slightly, and Spencer ran a hand over Derek's cheek. "He shot me in the leg, he used his knife to mark my chest, and he was just about to... carve my face when Batman dropped in, but-I'm fine. Now, come on, let's go-" He moved back toward the boiler room.

Derek observed Spencer's limp and shook his head. "No, you're hurt. You stay out here." Derek approached the doorway, gun raised, but he stopped short before entering. He stayed in the shadow of the hallway and beheld the sight within. Batman had slammed the Joker flat on his back onto the hospital bed and was now straddling him. But, instead of fighting back, the Joker was trying to pull the Bat closer to him as he looked up into his eyes.

"Come on, Bats, this is like old times, isn't it? Remember? It was right here, on this creaky old bed, the first time we-"

"Stop it. You're insane, there's no hope for the two of us. You're going back to a padded cell, that's all." The tone wasn't angry or even the authoritarian growl Derek had heard before. It was strangely gentle, and... sad.

"No, no, no." The Joker giggled as the Bat clamped a pair of handcuffs onto his wrists. "You and I are going to be together. Forever. Starting in about, oh-five minutes."

A cold feeling went over Batman. He stared down at the Joker. "What did you... _do?"_

"The boiler, Bats! I kind of expected you to be a little uncooperative. So, I rigged the valve on the furnace-steam's building up, and in a few minutes, it's going to... blow." The Joker lapsed into wheezing giggles as Batman leaped to his feet, pulled the Joker off the bed and dragged him toward the door.

"Morgan! Get Spencer and get out of here!"

Derek turned, bent low, and put Spencer's arms around his neck from behind. "Come on, kid, hop up." He pulled him onto his back, and the four dashed down the hallway to the outside, just as the creaky old boiler exploded, tearing apart the very sub-structure of the east wing of Arkham. Alarms began blaring, and people began pouring out of the doors as evacuation procedures were initiated. After a few minutes, emergency vehicles began streaming onto the property with their lights flashing and sirens sounding, and dozens of urgent voices melted into a bewildering cacophony as doctors, nurses and security guards attempted to herd patients out of the danger zone.

Away from the hubbub, Batman kept a secure hold on the Joker, who was watching the chaos unfold with an expression of utter glee. Derek helped Spencer to stand beneath a security light and began to examine his wounds. Spencer gestured at the bloody smiley face on his belly and drew a ragged breath.

"He made sure we'll never be able to forget. I'm sorry, Derek-you were right, I shouldn't have come to Gotham."

Derek tenderly traced a finger over Spencer's cheek, where a pinprick wound was leaking red into the white paint. "No. You and I know better than anybody that there's no predicting when insanity'll touch you. And, don't you think for a minute that what happened here will come between us. Scars fade. If anything, they'll be a reminder of how precious you are to me, and how important it is to make every second count. When we get home-I want to start over with you, Spencer. I want us to be together. For real. No more being 'casual,' okay?"

A slow smile crossed Spencer's made-up face and he nodded. "Yeah. I want that, too. I love you, Derek."

"I love you, too, babe. Now, let's get that shit off of your face, it's creeping me out." He helped Spencer limp to an ambulance. He fended off a police officer who thought he'd found the Joker (_This is the Joker's _victim, _man-can't you see he's got no scars?_) and got the EMTs to tend to his leg, his chest and the slice on his neck, while Derek found a towel and some soap and water and began carefully scrubbing away the makeup. He looked up and saw Batman and the Joker slip off to the Tumbler. He glanced around for the cop, but Spencer shook his head.

"Let them go," he said softly.

"What? No! The Joker's getting away, we-"

"It's okay. You know that Bruce-I mean, Batman-will deal with him properly. But, first, I suspect they need a little time to work things out between them, don't you?"

Derek was stunned. "But..." He saw the certainty in Spencer's eyes, and after struggling for a moment, Derek finally shrugged. "I guess so." He watched the stealthy vehicle disappear into the night, and a puzzled frown crossed his face. "They... love each other, don't they?"

"Well-there's a thin line between love and madness," Spencer said ruefully, looking down at the multi-colored stains on the towel in Derek's hand. "I'm pretty sure I know at which end of the spectrum their relationship lies."

Derek tossed the towel aside. "Yeah. They're both crazy, if you ask me. In fact, this whole town is wacko. Let's get out of here, babe. Or, do you still want to go sightseeing in the morning?" He grinned for the first time since Spencer had left him earlier that day.

Spencer vehemently shook his head. "I want to go home. With you. I'll never return to Gotham again."

"Not even to interview the Joker for one of your papers?"

"No. Believe me-I have all the information I could ever want about the clown."

The EMT finished dressing Spencer's wounds, gave him a set of scrubs to wear, and a crutch. Spencer gratefully turned over the bloodied white coat to an officer, then ran his fingertips over his face. It felt raw from the scouring Derek had given it, but it was good to be himself again. He hobbled over to Derek and looked him in the eye.

"Derek-I... Something happened, before the Joker. It's something I'm ashamed of, that I deeply regret, and-"

"You kissed Bruce Wayne."

Spencer stared. "Yes-how did-"

"He told me. He didn't want to-but, when Derek Morgan interrogates somebody, they spill it. Even Batman."

Spencer bit his lip worriedly. "I'm so sorry. All I can say is that... I don't know, I'd been drinking, and you'd hung up on me, and I just sort of let things get away from me. But, I swear to you-nothing else would have happened. You have to believe me, Derek-I don't want anyone else, ever." He looked into Derek's eyes. "Can you forgive me?"

Derek smiled. "Baby, all I care about is having you safe and sound again. I just want to bring you home." He took Spencer in his arms and held him until an officer came to take Spencer's statement; Derek went to make arrangements to get them back to Quantico as quickly as possible.

They left the chaos of Arkham without a look back.

_

* * *

Two weeks later..._

It had been a long day. Spencer had gone back to work on crutches, and was already immersed in the details of a disturbing new case. But, being able to go home with Derek lent a wonderful sense of normalcy to the evening, and he was happily watching the news with his lover. They'd had cocoa, and now Spencer was lying on the couch with his head resting in Derek's lap. Derek was absently playing with Spencer's hair, waiting for the sports portion of the show to come on.

Neither was paying much attention to the newscast, when the Joker's picture flashed onto the screen. The announcer intoned, "And, in other news, the notorious Gotham criminal known as the Joker has been apprehended after being at large for the last two weeks. He was delivered to Arkham Asylum by an individual whose identity could not be determined, and who left the scene before officials could get a statement.

"The Joker's return follows an anonymous gift of funds to rebuild the east wing of Arkham, which was destroyed in a mysterious explosion during which the Joker made his escape. A stipulation of the donation was that a special high-security cell be built to house the Joker, but we've heard reports that it will be more like a luxury suite than a padded cell, including such amenities as a queen-sized bed and mini-fridge. Asylum officials have not confirmed the rumor."

Spencer sat up. "Wow. I guess Bruce came up with a way to allow Batman and the Joker to carry on their relationship."

Derek shook his head disgustedly. "Well, that's just great. The psychopathic freak and the guy running around in bat-pajamas find happiness in the loony-bin. That just makes my day."

"Yeah... I know it seems weird, but I'm happy for them."

Derek gave a huff of exasperation. "You know, I think you're about as crazy as they are! How can you be happy about anything having to do with the creep that shot and kidnapped you, and that nut-case playboy vigilante?"

"Well... in spite of the pain and terror, I found the whole experience incredibly enlightening. And, you know that a team of top psychiatrists will be studying the Joker's case-who knows what they might discover about the aberrant mind?"

"If they live to tell about it."

"Good point. Well, as murderous as the Joker is, he's really very controlled. I don't think he'll do anything that might drive his Bat away from him."

"Really."

"Yes. In fact, I pointed out to him that he and Batman stood a better chance of working things out if he stopped killing people."

"Wait-you gave the Joker relationship advice?"

Spencer nodded. "Yes, and while he wasn't very receptive at the time, I think he may have come around to my point of view. What I observed during my time as the Joker's captive was that he's highly organized and reasoned. His whole purpose in kidnapping me was to attract Batman's attention-I was little more than a... prop, like in a vaudeville stage act. Or, maybe, a magician's hapless assistant. I don't think he was particularly interested in killing me, although he certainly would have, had it furthered his intentions."

"Which were?"

"To get Batman to realize his true feelings for him."

"So, why'd he paint you up to look like him?"

"The Joker is such a narcissist that he can only imagine being replaced by someone exactly like himself, but better. He wanted to force Batman to see what he was doing, and to put a stop to it."

"I got to tell you, man, that whole deal is amazingly fucked up. I think Jim Gordon knows who Batman is, and I think he kind of... enabled all this to happen." Derek gestured at the television. "What do you think?"

"I really don't know, but of course, it's possible."

Derek sighed. "I said it before, and I'll say it again-Gotham's one crazy place."

"I can't argue with you there." Spencer rose to his feet. "Hey, did the mail come today?"

"Yeah-I threw it on the table."

"Anything for me?"

"Don't know, babe-I was so tired, I didn't even look at it."

Spencer hobbled to the table and picked up the stack of mail. Bills. Ads. And... a letter, addressed to "Dr. Spencer Reid." He turned it over and over; the return address was "Wayne Enterprises, Gotham, USA." He glanced at Derek. The other man was watching him curiously. Spencer tore open the envelope.

"What'd you get?" Derek asked.

"It's a letter. From... Bruce Wayne."

"Shit." Derek came to stand beside him. "What does he say?"

Spencer began reading out loud.

"'My dearest Spencer... I know you're not taking my calls, and I don't blame you. But, I really do need to apologize for my forward behavior after the dinner party. I realize now that I should have considered the possibility that you were in a relationship. I'm so very sorry to have put you in such an awkward situation. I sincerely hope that you and Derek are doing well, and that you will be happy together.'"

Derek squeezed his fists. "That bastard. I should have-"

"Sh! There's more. 'Spencer, I have been very worried about you in the aftermath of your traumatic experience at the hands of the Joker. I hope you are recovering. I want you to know that Batman is seeing to the Joker's care in Arkham and that he is no longer a threat to anyone. You may rest assured that he won't escape again. I cannot fully express my regret that you were subjected to his madness, nor can I thank you enough for all your help. You've done more good than you know.

'Suffice to say, I am forever in your debt, and if there is anything I can do for you-ever-please contact me immediately.

'Best wishes,

'Bruce.'"

Spencer stared at the letter for a long moment, then looked at Derek, who was quietly seething. "'Bruce,'" he mimicked. "Gotham's Chief Wacko, he ought to say. He belongs in that freak-house, right alongside the Joker."

"Maybe so." Spencer folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. He was glad Derek didn't ask him to show it to him. He knew he'd go ballistic if he saw the little smiley face, drawn in red ink-he hoped it was ink-in the lower left-hand corner. "It's interesting-Bruce seems to maintain a detachment from his Batman persona," Spencer mused aloud.

"Now, don't you go psychoanalyzing _him. _I want you to forget the entire incident." Derek put his arms around Spencer. "You belong to me, now-no more Gotham craziness for you."

Spencer laughed. "Yeah, just good old, garden-variety psychopaths and serial killers, eh?"

"That's right." Derek ran his hand over Spencer's cheek, remembering the now-invisible pinprick left by the Joker's knife. "I love you." They smiled at each other, then kissed tenderly. Derek gave him a tight squeeze, then asked, "Spencer?"

"Hm?"

"You think your leg's well enough for us to... get friendly? You know-in bed?"

"I think so." Spencer raised his hand to his chest and traced the nearly-healed wounds left by the Joker's artwork. "I'm keeping my t-shirt on, though."

Derek looked him in the eye. "You don't have to. But, if it makes you feel better, go ahead."

Spencer nodded, and with their arms around each other, they headed to their bedroom. Spencer dropped the letter in the trash on the way.

_

* * *

Three months later..._

In a big comfortable bed in a freshly constructed high-security cell in the new east wing of Arkham, the Joker lay naked, cradled in Batman's arms. Thoroughly sated from an extended round of love-making, he stretched lazily and asked, "You ever think about ol' whats-his-name?"

Batman frowned. "Who?"

"You know. The doctor."

"No."

"Really?" The Joker lifted his head and searched the dark eyes. "Glad to hear it. What about the other one?"

"What other one?"

"The doc's boyfriend. Uh-Morgan, was it?"

"Oh. No, I don't think about him, either."

"Mm." The Joker settled against his lover's powerfully-muscled chest. "Too bad."

"Why?"

"I was thinking... Threesome?"

The Bat sighed and shook his head. "You really are insane, aren't you?"

The Joker laughed. "Takes one to know one, baby." He reached up and grabbed the Bat's lower lip between his teeth in a vicious kiss, then curled up, cat-like, and closed his eyes.

Due to certain features which the anonymous donor had specified in the blueprints for Arkham's reconstruction, the Bat was able to come and go as he pleased. And, as he'd promised the Joker during their two-week knock-down-drag-out fight/romantic getaway, he'd become a regular-and frequent-visitor. For his part, all the Joker had to do was hold up his end of the bargain.

He smiled at the thought.

He didn't know if that Dr. Reid really was a genius or not, but he had to hand it to him-he'd definitely given him some excellent advice. Sometimes, it just took an outsider to put things into perspective. He really wanted to thank him for that.

One of these days, when he had phone privileges again, he'd have to give him a call.

-The End-


End file.
